Pathway to Japanese Literature

305

January 1, Meiji 39 (1906), 12:00 AM–5:00 AM / From 57 Sendagi-chō, Komagome, Hongō Ward to Suzuki Miekichi, Sarugaku-chō, Hiroshima City

I want to send a letter to Mr. Katake someday.
Please tell me his address.

Dear Sir,

The persimmons you notified me about arrived yesterday on the 30th; when I tried one immediately, it was exceptionally delicious.
The dried persimmons were too hard, but those were just right.
I also gave some to the children.
Your neurasthenia seemed to be gradually making a full recovery—excellent news—and my stomach ailment did not appear life-threatening for the time being.
I thought it would be quite a sight to see you put on a play.
I wanted you to inform me precisely what role you planned to perform.
Today was New Year’s Eve, but it had been extremely peaceful—no debt collectors had come, and I was reading a novel at the kotatsu.
Have you seen Hototogisu?
I thought it would be interesting if a protest came from the school behind us, as that would create more material.
This school’s dormitory was nearby, and when night fell, its students made such a commotion that it troubled the entire neighborhood.
They were at it vigorously that night.
This time, I thought I would try catching them alive.
In the end, I believed it would be best if the principal said something about it.
If there was no commotion, I would run out of material for the cat.
“Have you read Itō Sachio’s *The Grave of Wild Chrysanthemums*?”
“That is fascinating.”
“It gives such a beautiful feeling.”
It had been snowing since the day before yesterday; today was cloudy and bitterly cold.
Yesterday Nakagawa came.

I wanted to write about your theatrical performance into *Cat*. A certain Matano Yoshio—who also goes by Tatara Sampei—had petitioned the university five or six times with urgent sealed letters demanding retractions from *Cat*. When I proposed placing a newspaper advertisement to issue corrections, he came pleading with me not to. The man kept grumbling about his character being defamed or some such nonsense. He’s quite the carefree soul. I suppose it takes considerable fortitude for someone who can’t distinguish between personal attacks and literary humor to fancy themselves a great hero.

“I urge you to come forth quickly.”

Waseda Bungaku was set to be published. Mr. Ueda Bin and others were preparing to launch Geien. Ōgai would likely do something as well. Thud-thud, squelch-squelch—amidst it all, the cat bobbed up and down. It was quite amusing. When the cat stopped appearing, I felt as though I’d lost an arm. Rather than straining alone in my study, I found it far more amusing to let out a fart-like bluster under the vast heavens. Starting next academic year, I earnestly urged you to come forth.

The following day, I was invited for lunch at the home of a German teacher named Maruyama Tsūichi. Though unclear what connection prompted this, I judged accepting the meal advantageous and agreed.

Whether joy or sorrow, they were but phenomena before one's eyes; the moon, the flowers—transient elegance of the moment. I didn't know how many decades my fixed karma would last, but until becoming a useless Buddha, I supposed things would continue more or less as they were now. Yours sincerely,

The night of December 31, Meiji 38 (1905)

Gold

Mr. Miekichi,

Today, when I took a walk with Nonomura Denji in Ueno, there was an outdoor Christian sermon.
There was not a single listener.
It was New Year’s Eve.
Humans seriously engage in even madness-like things for the sake of clothing and food.
There are plenty of such examples.

316

February 11, 1906, 11:00 AM–12:00 PM / From Hongo Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Sarugakucho, Hiroshima City

Your letter arrived last night.
Mr. Katake’s marriage is a joyous occasion.
What use could something like a baron’s daughter possibly be in the mountains?
However, that is an unnecessary matter.
In any case, congratulations.
“If you write a novel, send it along.”
“I would like to see it soon.”

Lately I had grown quite weary of all these magazine publishers coming around.
I had no time to write either.
The play would begin now, I supposed.
In Tokyo Mr.Tsubouchi’s disciples were staging them too.
Playing the shamisen inside a closet seemed like something straight from *Biographies of Early Modern Eccentrics*.
If one could manage such things their illness must be tolerable enough.
People coming to buy *Cat*’s original text—that became material for *Cat*.
There were all sorts of characters.
A man called Ōmachi read *Cat* and kept repeating two or three times that its author was a petty gloomy fellow with pretensions to wit.
The *People’s Newspaper* apparently claimed my relations with my wife had worsened since I wrote *Cat*.
Whereupon at the high school they treated that excerpt as important and presented it to the principal.
A certain Uchida Roan told someone that Mr.Natsume had been troubled after negotiations with Mrs.Kanada.

I supposed having reached this level of fame left nothing to be desired. In the past, such things would have bothered me—I would have felt uneasy if I hadn't corrected each and every one. Now I found it rather amusing. If I stayed here writing articles long-term, more people would emerge speaking ill of me. In the end, they'd say Sōseki died yesterday. No—they'd claim he'd been admitted to a lunatic asylum. They'd probably invent something preposterous next—like me being adored by some baron's daughter.

Today was Empire Day with fine weather—the day before yesterday had brought snow. A tremendous amount had piled up. Today too, the road was in poor condition. Last night, Nakagawa and about three others came over, had dinner, and spent the evening engaged in pleasant conversation.

Hiroshima—what kind of place it was, I wanted to go and see. In Hiroshima, I had a few friends; in the past, I had associated with them quite a bit. Dr. Amaki in Cat was also from Hiroshima. I had resigned myself to the notion that humanity’s purpose lay in toiling day after day, but when I couldn’t even read books or sit comfortably, it did leave one rather disheartened.

I thought I’d write something more but grew weary of it and stopped.

“Please convey my regards to Katake.”
“Is your wife beautiful?”

End of letter.

February 11, Empire Day morning

Kin

Mr. Miekichi

338

April 11, 1906, 11:00 PM–12:00 AM / From Hongo Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Tsukishimauchi, Enabamura, Hiroshima City

Both your letter and the novel have arrived—I’ve just finished reading them. Chidori is a masterpiece. Something written in this style could never be achieved by ordinary novelists. It is profoundly engaging. If I must find fault, the paragraphs and sequence lack structural cohesion. The initial conversation between Mr. Fuji and Mr. Segawa feels somewhat lifeless. (By contrast, all subsequent dialogues pulse with vitality.) The concluding passage where one envisions Mr. Fuji while gazing at the boat grows slightly tedious—though the moment where shells are tossed from sleeves proves masterful. From that point onward, omitting the exchange with the law graduate would improve matters. The illustrated princess episode would gain clarity through complete excision—though its inclusion might lend an eccentric charm. The wall painting protruding conspicuously warrants reconsideration. These constitute all flaws I perceived; everything else shines brilliantly. The dialogues, mannerisms, and gestures—each element excels splendidly. To isolate individual merits would render the remainder deficient by comparison—thus I refrain. The work thrums with vitality throughout. Were I to visit that island myself and attempt composition, I could never produce such writing. Long live Miekichi! Accordingly, I plan to publish Chidori in this issue of Hototogisu—you’ll presumably raise no objections? You shan’t mind? Though note my intention to omit the preface.

“Please write many more interesting works and startle those Heboko literati for me.”

I'm swamped with work.
Since yesterday I've managed to write half a page of my lecture.
Reading Chidori proves more interesting than writing lectures.
Katake's marriage arrangement having fallen through—how unfortunate—why doesn't Mr. Fuji marry her?
I couldn't care less about pedigree.
If one's a proper beauty skilled at violin, no vile illness would strike.
It matters not at all.
Scrutinize everyone's ancestral lineage and not one legitimate household would remain in all Japan.
With best regards. End of letter.

April 11, Night

Kin

Mr. Miekichi

340

April 15, 1906, 11:00 AM–12:00 PM / From Hongo Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Tsukishimauchi, Enabamura, Hiroshima City

Dear Sir, When I sent you a letter two or three days ago, I simultaneously sent one to Kyoshi informing him that a masterpiece had been completed. Then today, the General came and recited *Chidori*.
Therefore, I shall briefly present Lord Kyoshi’s opinions for your reference.

○ Throughout the entire work, the dialogue lacks vigor.
○ “Mr. Fuji’s excessive ‘Hohohoho’ detracts—if Mr. Fuji used country dialect and Mr. Segawa likewise sparred in country dialect, their exchange might gain vigor.” (※ Sōseki remarks: Kyoshi’s point holds merit.)
However, if the protagonist were to employ country dialect, the maidservant’s country dialect—or others’—wouldn’t stand out.
However, he thinks that throughout the entire work, the young couple’s dialogues are not particularly well-executed.

○ Kyoshi stated: "Shōbō’s photograph and telephone lack novelty—they need more vitality." (※ Sōseki remarked: "Both Shōbō’s photograph and telephone are executed with sketch-like appeal.")

○ The scene where a man and woman crouch by the pond conversing has yet to be integrated into the manuscript.
Moreover, the scenery is trite (※ (note: 「漱」’s 「欠」 component replaced by 「攵」) Sōseki noted: "The dialogue at that level ought to rank as superior").
(The pond’s scenery and the crucian carps’ movements are wholly sketched—devoid of cliché.)

Kyoshi stated: “While the premise of a young man and woman meeting and harboring mutual feelings is a common trope, placing weight on framing it as events spanning two days and striving to make this clear to the reader is commendable.”
(Sōseki remarked: The premise was neither clichéd nor entirely free from cliché—ultimately, it hinged on the writer’s skill.)
The major flaw of this work lay in how it inevitably aroused suspicion of artificiality.
However, due to the numerous sketch-like elements scattered throughout, it made one momentarily forget the unnaturalness—a skillful touch.)

Kyoshi stated: "The fox story is compelling—had the entire work sustained that tone throughout, it would have been extraordinary." (Sōseki remarked: The work largely maintained that tone.)

In essence, Kyoshi argued that as sketch literature it lacked adequate observational detail, and as a novel it fell short structurally.
Sōseki contended that no ordinary novelist had grasped this degree of sketch-like aesthetic sensibility.

The above were Kyoshi’s critiques.
You likely intended to show this work solely to me, but I believe hearing others’ opinions besides mine will benefit your future writings—hence this brief report.
Kyoshi is so passionate about writing that he makes such comments; because I overpraised it as a masterpiece, which led him to focus on pointing out flaws—though he does acknowledge its merits.

I had intended to obtain your approval regarding the manuscript first, but since Kyoshi said he would take it back with him, I went ahead and sent it. However, as it’s rather lengthy, he might trim some parts. Please bear this too without complaint. End of letter.

April 14, Night

Funds

Mr. Miekichi

346

May 3, 1906, 8:00–9:00 AM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Tsukishimauchi, Enabamura, Hiroshima City [Postcard]

Terada Torahiko praised Chidori and wrote, “Long live fine men!” in his letter.
Shihōta sent a letter stating that it was a masterpiece of such exquisite prose that even the likes of Shihōta could never hope to match.
I too was proud because of this.
As for Kyoshi, who nitpicked that work—he pronounced himself a fool.
End of letter.

350

May 16, 1906, 8:00–9:00 AM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Sarugakuchō, Hiroshima City [Postcard]

Dear Sir, The photograph was delivered the other day by Mr. Nakagawa.
My thanks.

That photograph did not look like a marble statue. It looked like a ghost. It must have been because your face and the area around your throat had grown too thin. This too must have been entirely the curse of some seventeen- or eighteen-year-old beauty—you’d best take care.

357

May 26, 1906, 3:00–4:00 PM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Sarugakuchō, Hiroshima City

Dear Sir, I have completed *Yōkyoshū* and sent you a copy. As there appear to be misprints and typographical errors throughout, kindly inform me should you notice any.

One cannot know the measure of a person’s worth without seeing what they attempt. Please continue to apply yourself diligently.

However，in this world，there are those who—though fully aware something is futile—persist in doing it with dogged determination，blind to its futility.
Even if you teach them such things or lecture them，they’ll never grasp it.
Indeed，they won’t feel satisfied unless they keep at it until they themselves collapse and can’t dispel their lingering thoughts.
It’s fine to let them keep at it until they realize on their own，but from an outsider’s perspective，it’s rather pathetic.
This is something I have been feeling entirely alone for some time now，but I have told no one.
However，this is not a matter related to literature or anything.

What I urge you to take up is literature—unless you try creating something yourself, you cannot know your own capabilities. No matter how much one creates, one can never foresee how one’s next self will manifest; thus, I hope you will boldly write "Ten Thousand Birds" or even "A Hundred Million Birds" after *Chidori*. I too have not been exhausted by *Yōkyoshū* alone, so I intend to write something new from here on.

End of letter.

May 26

Natsume Kinnosuke

Suzuki Miekichi

I finally finished reading the graduation thesis that arrived the other day.
Nakagawa’s was the most impressive.
If that person applies himself to his studies, there will soon be no one far more suitable than someone like me to be a university teacher.
Moreover, there was not a trace of presumption in him.
He is a truly admirable person.
His only weakness remains his timidity.

363

June 7, 1906 (the rest unclear) / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Sarugakuchō, Hiroshima City

Last night I wrote you a letter, but having received yours this morning, please accept without reservation the fee for rewriting.
For my part, I compose manuscripts from inception with full commitment.

I am deeply grateful for your meticulous reports on the typographical errors in *Yōkyoshū*.
Truth be told—though I had resolved to make corrections myself—the sheer volume of mistakes astonished me when I read through it; had others seen this state, it would surely have made for an embarrassing spectacle. Thanks to your efforts, I could rectify numerous oversights that had escaped my notice—a most satisfactory outcome.
I earnestly request you continue pointing out any further errors you may find.

I presume your neurasthenia has fully recovered as you plan to come to Tokyo in September—this being most satisfactory. Yet in this present foolish and erroneous world, I maintain that anyone persisting in righteousness must inevitably develop neurasthenia. Henceforth when meeting people, I intend to ask "Do you have neurasthenia?"—should they affirm it, I shall deem them ordinary humans possessing moral conscience. Those in our current age untouched by neurasthenia? Either wealthy dullards, uneducated heartless brutes, or else twentieth-century nincompoops content with superficial frivolities.

If one must die, I think dying from neurasthenia would be honorable. If I had the time, I would draft a theory of neurasthenia and make every last dog in the world realize they’re dogs.

A considerable amount has been done.
The tatami in my house are being replaced.
When rearranging my study—which will cause a major uproar—I think I’ll need to ask Mr. Nakagawa and one more person to assist. In haste.

June 6

Kin

Miekichi-sama

366

June 19, 1906, 6:00–7:00 PM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Sarugakuchō, Hiroshima City [Postcard]

I remain grateful for your notification regarding the misprints in *Yōkyoshū*—substantial corrections must indeed be made for the third edition.

I find myself resolved to compose a theory of neurasthenia.
By my reckoning, the British shall be first to meet their demise through neurasthenia—a capital theory, would you not agree?
Once published, you must grant it your earnest perusal.

389

August 12, 1906 (Meiji 39), 11:00 PM–12:00 AM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Sangokuya, Yuu Village, Kuga District, Yamaguchi Prefecture [postcard]

It seemed you were living alone in a large residence. Living like a feudal lord must have been quite splendid, I imagined. As usual, I was busy; I had no leisure to write long letters. “If you want to write, then write vigorously,” I said. “If your writing turns out poorly, that’s when you’ll first realize your cultivation is lacking or some such thing.” If you didn’t write, you’d never know what masterpiece might emerge. I believed you should tackle everything vigorously.

440

October 26, 1906, 3:00–4:00 PM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Kobayashi First Branch Store, Yayoi-chō 3-chome, Hongō Ward [On the front left side of the envelope: "First Letter"]

I read the letter you wrote last night around eleven o'clock this morning.
Terada and Yotahata were likely just as you surmised.
Matsune was a lovely man for all that, you know.
And since he was of aristocratic lineage, he had refined aspects.
But his brains weren't very good.
And he became straightforward.
Therefore, he did not meet Yotahata.
I didn't think anything of it.
If that was what counted as high-collar, then he had become particularly impressive.
It was strange because he had uncles and aunts who were counts, relatives connected to Mitsui, and yet he was scraping by on a thirty-yen monthly salary.
And that man was magnanimous.
He would come to another's home, settle in, and when mealtime arrived, eat with a face as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He had never said things like, "I'm imposing on you again with the timing today," or "Thank you very much."
It was fine because he acted as if he were eating at his own home.

You had not commented on Morita at all.
Morita probably did not meet your approval.
That man was the exact opposite of Matsune.
He feared people's criticism in every single action and movement.
I was striving quite hard to turn that man into the opposite.
Lately, I had finally managed to bring him just that far.
Even so, he remained like that.
Yet for him to have become so, there must have been a deep underlying cause.
To those meeting him for the first time, it might seem odd, but from my perspective, that was perfectly natural and even rather endearing.
I of course bore no responsibility for having made Morita that way.
However, I was only thinking of making that man even slightly more magnanimous, innocent, and happy.

To scold you—that’s more than sufficient.
It’s not something deserving such high praise, but there’s likely nothing warranting scolding either.

My precepts are nothing but absurdities.
I do not engage in conduct that could serve as lessons to others.
Two-thirds of my actions are merely expedient measures that would appear mad to others.
And that suffices.
Should this current state persist, it would become worrisome.
Even if people declare me mad after I die, I won't feel the slightest shame.
If my condition changes, I might abandon this madness.
Then perhaps I'll be called a gentleman posthumously.
In short, I find it amusing that one person can transform into anything—since others don't comprehend it, all the better.
Within a single day, I might manifest greater metamorphoses—as madman, gentleman, or scholar.
Whether people name me scholar, madman, or gentleman matters not, provided my salary arrives.
Thus I live my solitary existence not to exemplify anything for others.
Should anyone mimic my recent conduct, catastrophe would ensue.
Best regards,

October 26

Natsume Kinnosuke

Mr. Suzuki Miekichi

441

October 26, 1906 (time unknown) / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Kobayashi First Branch Store, Yayoi-chō 3-chome, Hongō Ward [On the center bottom of the envelope: “Second Letter”]

There is just one lesson I feel compelled to give you.
You'll lose nothing by heeding this from me.
From childhood until becoming a man, I had believed the world was a marvelous place.
I had believed I could savor exquisite meals.
I had believed I could don splendid kimono.
I had believed I might live poetically with a beautiful wife.
I had believed a graceful household would take form.

If unattainable, I resolved to seize it by any means.
To rephrase—I strove with all might to avoid their antitheses.
Yet while dwelling in this world, no refuge exists from such opposites.
Reality brims with phenomena diametrically opposed to our imaginings.

Therefore, in our stance toward the world, we must not avoid anything—be it filthy, unpleasant, or disagreeable. No, we must actively plunge into their midst; otherwise, we can accomplish nothing.

Merely living cleanly and beautifully—that is to say, living poetically—might constitute some fraction of life's significance (though I know not what), but I believe it remains an exceedingly minor part. Therefore, you cannot be a protagonist like in *Kusamakura*. That may be all well and good, but to survive in this world and assert your merits, you must inevitably adopt an Ibsen-like approach.

From this perspective, merely beautiful words end up as idle characters, as past scholars coldly criticized. The taste for haiku wanders contentedly through these idle characters. Yet the greater world cannot possibly be moved by those who lie idly in such small realms. Moreover, formidable adversaries surround us on all sides—adversaries that must be confronted. If one stakes their life on literature, mere beauty cannot suffice. I believe we must adopt the same resolve as Restoration loyalists who endured hardships—that without preparedness to face neurasthenia, madness, imprisonment or worse, none can become true literary figures. Writers may remain nonchalant and transcendent in their beautiful little worlds apart from society—but once they step into the broader realm, they cannot claim mere pleasure-seeking; no, they must actively pursue suffering.

“Speaking from your taste, it’s all in the manner of a courtesan’s sorrows—that’s what it comes down to. Do you think that by writing only what you find beautiful and then putting on airs as a literary figure, you can get away with it? The real world, of course, doesn’t work that way. The literary world won’t get far that way either. Even Kyoshi the haiku poet or Yontai—in this regard, they are entirely people from a different world. If those are the only literary figures, it’s utterly dull. Thus, ordinary novelists are as such.” I wished to engage with haikai-inspired literature on one hand while simultaneously approaching literature with the fervent spirit of Restoration patriots ready to stake their lives in battle. Otherwise, I couldn’t help feeling like one of those so-called spineless literary figures who abandoned hardship for ease, shunned drama to chase idleness.

There was nothing to take from *The Broken Commandment*, but I thought it surpassed others by several degrees in this single point. However, *The Broken Commandment* still fell short. “Mr. Suzuki Miekichi—produce works surpassing *The Broken Commandment* one after another!” End.

October 26

Natsume Kinnosuke

Mr. Suzuki Miekichi

468

December 8, 1906 (afternoon; further details unknown) / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Fukueikan, Daidōchō, Hongō Ward

Dear Sir, enclosed is Yamabiko Critique by Morita Hakuyō sent for your reference. I intended to begin writing for *Hototogisu*, but the grand concept remains unwieldy—trimming it would leave it crippled. With no time to spare, I found myself greatly troubled. In haste.

December 8

Natsume Kinnosuke

Mr. Suzuki Miekichi

473

December 9, 1906 / 3:00–4:00 PM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Nakagawa Yoshitarō and Suzuki Miekichi, Hōmeikan, Daidōchō 27-chome, Hongō Ward [Postcard]

Due to my landlord’s transfer to Tokyo resulting in my eviction, should you find a suitable house, please inform me immediately upon discovery.

“Have you seen Mr. Hakuyō’s critique?”

The ninth.

486

December 24, 1906 / 3:00–4:00 PM / From Hongō Ward, Komagome Sendagimachi 57-chome to Suzuki Miekichi, Fukueikan, Daidōchō, Hongō Ward [Postcard]

If the weather permits, I plan to move on the 27th—would you kindly come assist?
Nishikichō 10-7 area.
However, I must trouble you to visit Sendagima first.

December 24